


The best part of me was always you

by elisewin



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Soccer AU, football au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-20 00:43:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisewin/pseuds/elisewin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>football!au in which Louis is the young star of Manchester United and Harry is, well, just a friend who doesn't like football at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The best part of me was always you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phoebo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoebo/gifts).



> kind of based on [this au meme](http://maliksmofos.tumblr.com/post/35482696921/au-louis-as-a-world-class-footballer)
> 
> my awesome friend Kya has made a fanmix for this fic, you can find it [here](http://waferkya.livejournal.com/99464.html) :) ♥

“We are here with Louis Tomlinson, who today scored his first goal for Manchester United, how does it feel like to be back home, Louis?” _It feels exactly the same as two minutes ago_ , he would like to answer, because everyone is asking him the same question over and over again.

“It feels – it is great, the crowd here is unlike everywhere else's, is... I can't describe it,” he answers though, hoping that the answer satisfies the Sky Sport journalist and he will let him go. But he doesn't, of course.

“Sure, I can't imagine how it is, two years far from home, and now you're back here and, well, must be great.”

“It is, it is, last year was great but being back home it's completely another thing, really.” _Will he let me go now._ No, he has another fucking question.

“Do you – do you have _someone_ , a special _girl_ maybe, you'd like to dedicate this goal to?” He asks.

“Yes, of course there is a special girl, there are actually five special girls, my mom and my sisters, and it's all for them,” Louis says, looking into the camera and blowing a kiss. He can hear the _ooohs_ coming from the studio.

 

He manages to get out of Old Trafford only half a hour later, after another tons of idiotic questions about his feelings, about his two years in Spain (like “did you learn any of the language?” _I'm not completely dumb_ , but of course he doesn't say it, he's really diplomatic, he really is), his family, if he missed his friends back home ( _no, I'm a heartless twat_ ), and many more he already forgot.

His phone won't stop buzz in his pocket, so he takes it out as he walks to his car, there aren't many people around anymore, almost all his teammates ran away and let him handle almost all the interviews, “you're the star now, Tommo!”.

There are of course several from his mom “you made all of us proud, too bad we couldn't be there! X” and Stan too, who couldn't come because he had a match with his team back home, “Of course you bastard, you score the only time I can't watch the match! Hate you!”, “I'm kidding though, you're coming here tonight so we can celebrate, right?” and he's almost texting back to write him, of course I am mate, when he gets a message, “You were great tonight! I might even change my mind and come to Old Trafford next time. Want to come here and celebrate? .xx” and it's Harry so he's answering yes to him. He calls Stan and apologizes and says he will be in Doncaster the next morning. He can hear the disappointment in Stan's voice and he feels guilty, but he's his best friend and he understands.

He understands because Stan remembers when Louis met Harry at a concert for the first time and he hasn't talked about anything else for days, weeks, and then he had to move to Spain and his world turned upside down.

Spain is beautiful and Louis had a great time there, he made a lot of friends and learning a new language was a challenge he gladly accepted, but there was always _something_ missing (and that something sure wasn't the sun, he has never seen so many sunny days in a row in his whole life).

Harry went there a few times, and Louis swore to himself he would tell him how he felt the last time he came there, in April. But he arrived at the airport, huge smile on his face, said, I have to tell you something, said, I have a girlfriend. That Sunday he scored two goals, imagining the ball as her head.

The loan to Sevilla ended that summer, and Manchester decided to take him back after seeing his great performances there. He has dreamed to play for the first team of Manchester United since he can remember, and when he signed the contract he partied for two days in a row with his friends back home, and when a week later he met with Harry and he told him he split up with the girl, Louis thought things couldn't get any better.

 

Until this day and this goal. He is only a sub for now, but scoring a goal in his stadium after only five matches, well, not even in his wildest dreams he would have imagined something like that. The Liga was a completely different thing, and he thought it would have taken _months_ to adjust to this different reality – so when the ball went into the net, it took him a full minute before realizing it was really him, Louis Tomlinson, the boy from Doncaster his old coach back there said would never have a future, who scored it.

His phone keeps on buzzing as he drives to Harry's place. Some his old teammates from Sevilla and other ones he played with in the B Team in Manchester who are now in other teams across Europe write him to congratulate and some other to ask him if he wants to meet soon.

He misses the last year there, when no one stopped him on the streets except for a few really, really fanatics who watched all categories' matches, but that was it. Now people stop him all the time, there are some who followed Spain's Liga and say they couldn't wait for him to get back, that he is the younger version of Rooney (“nicer, though”, they add), and so on.

 

When he first moved to Sevilla he thought that playing on a higher level and being very busy with football, well, would have helped him forget about Harry but here he is, after his first goal in Premier League ringing his home bell and being welcomed by a warm hug, with his heart exploding in his chest (and then he thought the goal would have been the biggest emotion for the night, he was wrong apparently).

“Loads of people wrote me asking me to tell you you were great, and uhm, I also have a couple of marriage proposals,” he jokes, as they sit on the couch, handling Louis one of the beers he has in his hands. “You know how I barely know what an offside is -”

“That is what you keep telling yourself so your hipster friends won't cut you off their circle,” Louis mocks him.

“I – okay, well, I must admit that after all this time I've known you, I might have understood it, but don't tell anyone!” Harry says, taking a sip of his beer. “Anyway, I was saying that you were great, in a few months Rooney will be your sub, I'm sure of it!” Louis laughs.

“Yes Ferguson has actually asked him already to find a new team.”

 

Louis wants to say, _you know when you asked me if that goal was for someone, it was for you. I pointed to you, when I pointed to the camera._

But once again, after a night of drinking beer and watching awful movies on tv, Louis leaves Harry's house with those words stuck in his throat.

 

It's raining in Doncaster and in these moments Louis would love to take a plane and go back to Sevilla and its weather. But being home with Stan always brings back good memories.

“So, you were at Harry's last night, right?” Stan asks him.

“Yes, had a few beers, talked about Uni, the usual,” Louis answers, like it's no big deal. But Stan knows him better than anyone else, so he knows exactly what a big deal it is to him.

“It has been almost three years though can't you just -”

“Can we just not talk about it?” Louis begs. “Do you want some tea?”

“Sure.”

Louis gets up from the couch to go boil some water in the kitchen, coming back a few seconds later.

“What should I do, anyway?” He asks.

“You put a t-shirt with a giant heart and the name Harry written inside it under your jersey and next time you score you show it, I'm sure he'll get the message.”

“You know I've always got the worst timing, so it will probably happen when he's in the bathroom or something,” Louis whines.

“I'm quite sure it would be on all the papers the next day, you play for Manchester United not Doncaster Rovers, you idiot,” Stan says, as he punches him in the arm.

“Ouch!”

“Okay maybe something not that obvious, but like, a thing that only him could understand?” Stan suggests.

“That's why you're my best friend, Stan,” Louis says as he puts an arm around Stan's shoulders. “You've always got the best ideas. Though, you know, I'm not exactly scoring every single match.”

“So go talk to him!” Stan says, exasperated.

“I think we already discussed it and I don't think I can do -”

“Write him a letter? I don't know Lou, but since you're back you are spending most of your time with him and I don't think it's healthy,” Stan says, concerned.

“Thank you for worrying, but we both know you say it just because you want to spend more time with me,” Louis says, going back to the kitchen to check if the water has boiled.

“Yes, I'm in love with you!” Stan shouts from the living room. Louis laughs as he fills two mugs with hot water. Maybe the shirt idea isn't that bad. Even though Sir Ferguson will probably kick him the ass for the yellow card right after.

 

They met at a Script concert, almost three years earlier. So he thinks, I'll write some lyrics from one of their songs. He will get it. Or maybe he will call him right after and ask him who's the lucky person or something like that, Harry could do that, and at that point Louis will probably meditate suicide, but in the meanwhile, as he writes down the lyrics on a plain t-shirt, he hopes for the best.

 

He plays an awful lot for being only twenty years and on the first team for only a couple of months, but of course now that he wears that stupid shirt it feels like he has 20 more kilos on his body and the net seems so far and he can't score.

 

He complains with Stan on the phone, and he says that maybe it wasn't a good idea after all because it only gets him nervous, maybe a letter is a better idea after all.

Louis complains but he keeps on wearing the shirt, he keeps on going out with Harry the weekends they're playing at home and he keeps on drinking beer on his sofa and he keeps on keeping those words down his throat and he wishes he was braver.

 

Louis calls Stan on a Sunday morning to tell him he will be a starter that day, he knows it is a last minute thing but he could give him a few tickets if he wanted to come to Manchester. Stan is already in the car when the phone call is over.

They're playing against the team at the bottom of the chart so the coach is giving a chance to the younger players, and this is the first time he starts since the beginning of the season. In Sevilla he was the star, here in Manchester, he still has to prove everything. If he can't score today, he's sure Sir Ferguson won't give him much more chances. If he score, well, he will prove him what an idiot he is. So, either way, he loses. Stan was right, maybe the letter was a better idea.

 

It is after fifteen minutes that it happens – luckily the other team defense sucks so Louis rapidly dribbles two of them and he kicks the ball with his best foot, the right one. And it goes into the net. It takes him again some time to register what has just happened. It was _him_ , again. The crowd is roaring. His teammates are hugging him and cheering but he just – he doesn't care about them right now he has to run to the closer camera while he takes off his jersey. His second goal, his first yellow card.

 

He scores another one in the second half. And Sir Ferguson doesn't kill him for the jersey thing.

But he hasn't checked the phone during half time, and he doesn't after the end of the match. He goes through several interviews, _did it feel any different from the other time, do you think you will get more play time now, who is that shirt for. Is there a special_ girl _, again, tell us the truth, Louis._

“Uhm is – well. For a special person, yes,” he answers this time. They will speculate and probably will link him with every single breathing human being on planet earth, but in this very moment he doesn't care. He looks into the camera and smiles, but on the inside, he's dying. His phone is in his pocket, he hasn't checked it yet.

 

There is Stan waiting for him outside, he completely forgot he was there with another couple of friends from back home. They have to go back to Doncaster so he hugs all of them, he whispers a thank you to Stan, and only when he is in car, completely alone, he takes his phone out of his pocket. Harry hasn't called or texted, does that mean he doesn't want to hear from him anymore? He tries to call anyway.

“Hi,” Harry answers, voice blank, “Can you – come over?” he asks.

“Sure, I am on my way.”

“Okay, bye,” he says, and hangs up. He didn't sound particularly ecstatic about it.

 

Louis is afraid to ring that button. On the way there he has pictured the scene in a million different ways, the most unrealistic one with them making out on the sofa as soon as he opens the door, the most realistic one with Harry pushing him out of the door after telling him he is an idiot because he has ruined their friendship.

So when Harry opens the door the first thing he says is, “Sorry”.

“Yeah, well, you should be.”

“I know, I'm sorry, I should've been more honest with you,” Louis says, not daring to look away from his feet.

“You should have, yes. You know how much time I've -” Harry pauses, “-I thought. Well. Why do you think I have cable tv, Louis? I've never liked football and all of sudden I found myself watching every single game of your stupid team in Spain. I barely knew they played football in Spain!” He's half crying and half laughing and Louis is not sure of what he heard so he steps closer and says:

“They actually won two Euros and a World Cup in a row,” then Louis remembers he isn't there to discuss football trophies. “So you-? Wait what about your girlfriend back then – I was -”Louis notices just now that the other one is wearing the shirt he has bought at that stupid concert. Harry shrugs.

“You were there and I thought you were having the time of your life, or something, so I thought I should've tried to get over you. And well, then you came back,” he explains. _The time of his life_.

 

This is the time of his life. Playing home in front of his people and the team he has always cheered for and scoring for them and hearing the crowd cheer for him and this boy in front of him who he's about to kiss.

 

The time of his life is a few weeks later, when they have an away match to Liverpool and even if he doesn't play and they lose, he spends the entire night and the next day alone in his hotel room with Harry. Louis is quite sure he should feel bad about the result but he can't be as he (badly) sings Something into his boyfriend's ear.


End file.
